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For a moment, everyone in the room stood frozen, staring in horror at the thing that had been Orsino.
Then, with a sound that was somewhere between a sob and a scream, Bethany hurled a fireball at it. Around the room, the other mages attacked the grotesque creature with all the magic at their disposal.
Sickened by Orsino's cowardly, destructive decision, Hawke withdrew and let his own people pass judgment on him. The others followed her, taking the brief breathing spell to look at their wounds, all minor, and drink from the water flasks they carried.
Bethany was the one to finish off the monster. She drew a knife from her belt, one Hawke recognized as having been Carver's, and drove it through the eye of the thing that had once been the First Enchanter.
The creature collapsed on the floor, while the mages all gathered around Bethany. Most of them were weeping, whether in distress or in genuine grief at the loss of their leader, Hawke couldn't have said. Probably both, she imagined.
Once the mages had recovered their equilibrium somewhat, Hawke approached them, putting a gentle hand on Bethany's shoulder.
"Oh! Sister. Have you—have you ever seen anything like that?"
She'd seen their mother, Hawke thought. But she wasn't about to say that to Bethany. And certainly not right now. "Horrible," she agreed. "I'd like to give you all time to grieve, but … the Templars have only withdrawn to regroup. We haven't defeated them."
"I know. But … Mina, I don't think they can fight anymore." She looked at her fellow mages with sympathy. "They don't know how. And they don't have any stamina at all. They're afraid and horrified and … I just don't think they can."
Hawke nodded. "That's understandable." She took a breath, thinking rapidly. "All right. Take them with you farther into the Gallows. Find a room you can fortify, and any of you who are still strong enough to fight take turns watching the entrance."
"But—the Templars."
"I'll deal with Meredith," Hawke said grimly. "And then I'll come back for you."
"And if she—if you—"
"Then you do what you have to do. Don't let them take any of you alive."
Next to Hawke, Varric made a strangled sound of distress. He had never heard her prepare to lose before. And to tell her sister to get ready to end it all, for herself and the others …
Well, Hawke didn't like saying it any more than he liked hearing it. But what recourse would there be left to them? If Meredith won today, she would invoke the Right of Annulment and they would all be dead anyway.
Bethany's eyes filled with tears, but she was very calm. "I … I understand. I love you, Mina."
"I love you, too. Now, go. Hide well."
"We will." Bethany turned to the others, coaxing some of them to their feet, and led the little group of wearied mages from the room.
"That was generous," Fenris said from behind her. "And wise. Mages pushed to the brink such as those have only one place left to turn."
"And you don't want that at your back," Isabela agreed.
"What about me? Aren't you afraid I'll become an abomination and kill you all?" Merrill asked tartly.
"You've fought at our side for years. And before that, you lived with the Dalish. We know you can handle yourself. None of those mages have been out of the Gallows since they were small children. They know nothing," Hawke said.
"And driven to desperation, will be capable of anything," Fenris added, his lip curling in disgust as he surveyed the remains of Orsino. He looked toward the door as if he had heard something. "We cannot afford to remain here. They will be coming back."
"It's not like we can get out," Varric said. "Meredith's in the courtyard, just waiting for us."
"Well, then. We shouldn't disappoint her."
"Hawke. Sweet thing, I know you love to throw yourself into a fight, and you know I do, too, but we can't take on the entire Templar order of Kirkwall just us five."
"Now, Isabela, where's your sense of adventure?"
"Right now? Being beaten back by my sense of self-preservation. Have you ever been out on the open ocean in a storm? It's the best feeling in the world. I want to feel that again, and not have my last experience in this life be the taste of a Templar's blade."
"Very poetic, Rivaini."
"Thank you. I try."
"Will you all believe me if I tell you I have a plan?" Hawke asked testily. Having made her decision, she was anxious to get going. Standing here in the midst of this carnage was depressing.
"Sure, we'll believe you, Hawke … but we'll also be pretty sure we're not going to like it."
She smiled down at Varric. "You always like my plans."
"Your plans always ruin my boots."
"And make us enough coin for you to buy new ones."
"Not this time."
"No," she conceded. "This time we're not likely to win much coin. But … we win freedom for all of Kirkwall. And that's worth more than coin, isn't it? Taking Meredith out of power? Giving it back to people who have the city's best interests at heart?"
"If you can find any," Varric muttered.
"Yes, well, that's going to be your job."
"No, thank you."
"You see? There's the bright side. If you die today, you don't have to figure out who's going to take care of Kirkwall."
"Well … Aveline will, won't she?" Merrill looked from one to the other of them. "She always has."
Hawke would very much have liked to have had Aveline here for this, her trusty blade and powerful shield, but Merrill had a good point. Aveline would care for whoever was left. That made Hawke feel better.
She strode toward the doors. "In that case, let's go save it for her."